Waking up on a cold saturday morning, orange sky with a hint of pink, heaters cranked on full blast.
Listen, the sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen, the dead silence outside with the occasional passing car on the way to work is as chilling as the weather, all that can be heard is the sound of birds chirping in the trees, you feel cold, tired and unprepared for the day ahead. As you get out of bed you can feel the cold air grasp your skin until it is covered with goosebumps, bag packed with rugby gear, still covered in mud from last saturday. Hot shower, getting changed into a formal white shirt and tie, clean black dress shoes. You still feel cold with chills going up your spine as you feel nervous for the big day ahead.
Look, the empty hills you can see from your spot on the loud, crammed bus full of focus and preparation. With a thin cloud of mist along the skyline, the tint of purple in the sky slowly merging to a light blue with silhouettes of old farm houses in the distance. All you can see is yourself on the rugby pitch, covered in mud with your team mates by your side. Remembering everything you’ve practiced in training, wanting to succeed and impress your coaches on the sideline, with supporters surrounding the pitch with pressure and support. Dark gloomy skies, harsh breeze muting the sound of the roaring crowd. It was just another day on the pitch with the brothers, running the ball, taking out players, being taken out by players. It brought aggression to the field, the rush of adrenaline pumping throughout your veins, the feeling of being alive.
End of match. The sense of tiredness covering the pitch, the changing rooms covered in muddy rugby gear. All that can be heard are the echoing voices of men celebrating, the single UE boom speaker blasting in the background, the ride home exhausting. The sun slowly disappearing behind the mountains, your vision slowly fades away as you fall asleep.